


The Ambush

by charlock221



Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, light h/c though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlock221/pseuds/charlock221
Summary: 'When Arthur had gone out scouting Rhodes for any job opportunities with Micah and Bill, he wasn’t surprised to be ditched by the other two so they could drink and play poker in the saloon.'Suddenly caught unawares, without a horse or friends, Arthur has to get out of Rhodes to ensure survival. He definitely wasn't expecting a certain photograph to show up and offer aid.
Relationships: Albert Mason & Arthur Morgan, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775863
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	The Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been enjoying this series, I hope you like this one! Sorry they aren't uploaded very frequently; I've got a lot going on but writing this series is a real stress relief.

When Arthur had gone out scouting Rhodes for any job opportunities with Micah and Bill, he wasn’t surprised to be ditched by the other two so they could drink and play poker in the saloon. He liked it, in fact. Since returning from Strawberry with a nearly-amputated-but-made-it-just-in-time foot, Arthur had been laid up in camp while he healed. Going out was a blessing but his mood had soon dipped when he learned Micah and Bill would be joining him.

He wasn’t sure why Dutch had asked him to go out with them and not any of the other members of the gang, considering he got on better with Charles or Javier, or even John. Hell, Sadie had recently proven herself more than capable; Arthur would have happily ridden with her. Instead, he was lumped with the loudest complainers, barring Uncle, perhaps, and so a chance for a bit of peace and quiet was a welcome opportunity. He left his horse tied at the saloon with theirs and headed down the street to the general store, needing to stock up on supplies and hoping to hear any more gossip about the wealthy Grays and Braithwaites.

It was while he was inside that the day took a turn for the worse. Shouting from outside distracted him from paying for a few items, and when gunshots began to echo, he grew worried. He left what he was about to buy and darted to the door, one hand hovering over his pistol. If Micah and Bill had gotten into trouble he would kill them himself and save whoever they’d pissed off the hassle.

Turned out it wasn’t their fault this time. Looking through the window Arthur spotted a group of Lemoyne Raiders riding past the store, yelling and firing their guns as passers-by ran in all directions. Sheriff Gray and his deputies were taking cover behind doorways and carts, attempting to pick off the Raiders one by one.

Arthur cursed and looked down the street to the saloon. Patrons were scattering from the building, getting as far away as they could, but there was no sign of Bill or Micah, and Arthur wasn’t reaching his horse without getting a couple of bullets in his back. There was no doubt the Raiders would know who he was. He’d caused plenty of trouble for them: stealing moonshine and picking a fight at Shady Belle with Lenny. Going out there would result in a long gunfight with certain casualties, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be one of them.

Instead, Arthur marched to the back of the store. There wasn’t much he could do for Micah and Bill; he’d have to count on them to get themselves out of trouble. He needed to lie low and keep out of sight so that he could come back for his horse and get back to Clemens Point safely.

Arthur prepared himself and pushed open the back door, heading northwest, parallel to the main street. He was keeping an eye out as he went for any tethered horses he could grab, but everyone was fleeing on their own steeds, and it was all Arthur could do not to get trampled as people burst from between buildings in an effort to get away.

He made it to the edge of town and decided to just sprint for it. He peered around the side of a house, and when there was a lull in gunfire, he broke cover and started running. With any luck, he’d find a creek or patch of trees where he could hide for a while. He crossed the uneven fields as quickly as he could, keeping an ear on the shouting and gunfire in case it started getting closer.

“Ain’t like you to run from a fight, Morgan!” Micah’s voice called out from behind him, and Arthur turned to see the man galloping in his direction.

“Bill?” he called back.

“Gone the other way. You left your horse.” He got closer and Arthur moved to the side of the road.

“I’ll come back later.” Arthur held his hand out and could only watch in astonishment as Micah breezed past him, a high laugh chasing him.

“Guess it’ll be a while ‘til we see you at camp then, huh?”

“Micah!” The other man didn’t reply, simply carried on riding until he was out of sight, leaving Arthur furious.

“Goddamn son of a bitch!” he shouted. It seemed like Micah’s exit (or Arthur’s shouting) had attracted unwanted attention, as when he looked towards the town at the sound of hooting and yelling, Arthur spotted two Raiders coming for him.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hissed, and started sprinting. He pulled his revolver from its holster and twisted, firing blindly as he ran. It worked in making the riders swerve to dodge the bullets, but it didn’t slow them much.

The pounding in his ears was drowned out by a loud horn blaring, and Arthur saw to his right a train heading in the direction of Rhodes, towards him. It was his best chance at losing the Raiders. He put on a burst of speed and headed west, his eyes on the tracks ahead of him and not on the speeding train. It was going to be close, but Arthur couldn’t stop now. If he didn’t beat the train, he’d be cornered and shot to bits.

The Raiders were still shouting and firing at him, and it was a miracle he hadn’t been hit yet, but Arthur tried not to think about that. His lungs were already aching, begging to slow down so he could catch his breath, and his feet were rubbing against his boots, promising a plethora of blisters in an hour.

He was suddenly at the tracks, and the train was about to be, too. Arthur leapt across and fell to the ground on the other side as the train rattled past him, its horn still blaring. He didn’t have time to sit around; the Raiders yelled threats at him, glimpses of their twisted faces appearing in the gaps between the carriages. He got up and ran.

He followed the road around the corner and suddenly collided with a horse.

“Oh! Good God, sir, are you alright?” a shaken voice called to him.

Arthur grinned into the dirt. “Mr. Mason, I need your horse.” He got to his feet and turned to see Albert Mason gaping at him, one hand petting his agitated horse.

“Why are you running around out here?”

Gunshots cracked nearby, and Arthur knew the chase was back on. Mason had heard them too, his head snapping in their direction.

“That’s why,” he panted, relieved when Mason nodded quickly and held out a hand without further questions. Arthur pulled himself up behind the photographer, gripping his waist to balance himself when Mason urged his horse around into a sudden gallop. They followed the road for a brief time until Mason took them uphill, giving encouragements to his horse as it struggled with the weight of two men. Arthur kept one hand on Mason and one on his gun as he watched for the Raiders. They had come galloping around the corner where Arthur had met Mason, and they kept riding as they looked around for him. As Mason’s horse crested the hill that opened onto the heartlands, one of the Raiders glanced his way, but they were soon out of sight as Mason spurred his horse on.

“I don’t think they saw where we went,” Arthur said, his grip tightening as they picked up speed going downhill.

“Who on earth are they?” Mason asked.

“Lemoyne Raiders. Nasty bunch.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“They started shooting up Rhodes. Good thing you weren’t ten minutes earlier, Mr. Mason.”

“A good thing indeed.”

They continued across the plains, the two of them jolted this way and that as they navigated the uneven terrain. Mason had slowed his horse now that they weren’t in immediate danger and Arthur reluctantly let go of the photographer’s waist, no longer at risk of losing his balance. He didn’t want to question why he felt reluctant, or why he’d been pleased to see Mason. It wasn’t just that he was getting away from the Raiders. Often times at camp Arthur’s thoughts would drift while he was chopping wood or brushing his horse, and he’d start thinking about his encounters with Mason. Retrieving his photography gear from a coyote, protecting him from a hungry pack of wolves, and corralling a group of horses for a photograph had turned out more entertaining than Arthur expected (although he’d been less entertained when dealing with the wolves). He’d been intrigued to know how Mason worked, why he put himself in situations that he wasn’t suited to just to capture some pictures. There was a part of the man Arthur didn’t understand, but he found he enjoyed trying. Bumping into him was more pleasant each time. It didn’t hurt that Mason tended to show up right when he needed help in some form.

“Can I take you to Valentine?” Mason asked, jolting him from his thoughts. He’d joined a road and they were headed in the direction of the livestock town.

“No, I gotta go back for my horse,” Arthur said. “I’ll just lie low for a bit.” He glanced up at the two cliffs that sat either side of the road ahead of them and touched Mason’s shoulder, pointing. “I’ll make camp up there.”

Mason stopped the horse and turned in the saddle to frown at Arthur. “You want me to leave you halfway up a cliff in the middle of nowhere so you can eventually walk back to a town that is being attacked by a dangerous gang?”

Arthur looked away, shifting slightly. Having Mason so close to him was suddenly making him uncomfortable. “Well when you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

Mason nodded. “I’m glad you agree.” He spurred the horse into a trot and steered it off the road, heading up the cliff.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.

“If you’re setting up a camp then the least you could do is brew me a cup of coffee as thanks,” Mason said cheerfully, leaving Arthur in a stunned silence.

They stopped when they were safely away from the road and Arthur quickly dismounted, watching as Mason got off his horse and spoke to it quietly, petting its nose and rummaging in a saddlebag to pull out a carrot. He was smiling as the horse accepted the treat, and Arthur forced himself to concentrate and start a fire.

“What were you doing around Rhodes, anyway?” he asked as he pulled a cup from his satchel.

“I was headed towards Braithwaite Manor. I’ve heard there’s a panther in those parts.” Mason sat down and offered his own cup to Arthur, who took it whilst shaking his head.

“You’re an unnaturally lucky man, Mr. Mason, but that luck’s gonna run out one day, and I ain’t sure it’s worth testing while you’re looking for a panther,” Arthur said, beginning to brew the coffee.

“Maybe you could come with me.”

Arthur laughed, “I definitely ain’t as lucky as you.”

“You got out of Rhodes without a horse. That seems rather fortunate to me.”

Arthur passed the coffee back to Mason, who accepted it with a smile. He was looking at Arthur, waiting for a reply.

“I guess,” he said, not knowing what to say while Mason was giving him his full attention.

The photographer changed the subject. “You know, as much as I enjoy travelling around the country taking photographs of what I find, no camera could quite capture the beauty of this view.” He gestured at the Heartlands, his smile widening. “It’s glorious, isn’t it?”

“It’s something,” Arthur agreed, finding Mason’s enthusiasm contagious. “You ever thought about taking photos of landscapes instead of dangerous animals?”

“I’ve done a few, yes. Environments such as this are just as in danger of extinction as many of the creatures that inhabit them. America is becoming an insatiable industrial machine, always hungry to expand, build, control. What we lose in the pursuit of progress, I think, are moments of peace and tranquility, beauty and magnificence, and once they are lost, they can never be restored.”

Arthur blinked, not expecting such a serious answer. Mason was right, though. Civilization was on the horizon, and he and the gang were struggling to stay out of it’s crushing grip.

“Forgive me,” Mason said, after Arthur took too long to respond. “One of the complications of travelling through this country alone is that I have a lot of time to think on its decline.”

“No, I agree with what you said.” Arthur quirked a smile at Mason’s confused expression. “I know folk who are being pushed further and further west, and soon they’re gonna run out of space. S’already happened to the Natives; I guess it’s inevitable that the same thing’ll happen to us.”

Mason sipped his coffee. “You’re very surprising, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “Didn’t think I had such big thoughts in my head?”

“No, no,” Mason said quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I surprise myself sometimes.”

“You’re right, though. And you speak more sense than some of the fools I’ve met in New York City.”

“Guess we just have to appreciate it while we still can.”

Mason hummed into his coffee and the two fell into a comfortable silence. While he had moments of quiet whenever he set up a small camp, Arthur felt much more at easy with someone next to him… with Mason next to him. Whenever he bumped into the photographer he knew he was guaranteed an interesting and harmless (on Mason’s part, that was) time. He had never imagined what it would be like to sit around a campfire with the other man; he should have known it would be more comfortable than if he was with certain members of the gang.

An hour passed, interrupted only by the odd comment or observation made by one of the men. The coffee got cold and the fire dwindled down, but neither of them cared. It was only when a niggling worry at the back of Arthur’s mind about his horse’s whereabouts grew into a strain of concern, did he finally get to his feet. Mason saw what he was doing and also quickly got up.

“Back to Rhodes?” he asked.

Arthur knew there was no point in refusing his help. “Only if you’re sure. There’s no guarantee them Raiders are gone.”

Mason shrugged, shooting him a wry smile as the two of them cleared the makeshift camp and wandered over to the horse. “They can’t be worse than a pack of wolves, can they?”

“Wolves don’t shoot up towns ‘cos they’re bitter about losing a war,” he said.

They started the trek down the hill and joined the road, heading towards Lemoyne. There was less urgency in the ride back, but Arthur still checked his guns were loaded and ready. He wasn’t letting Mason get hurt after he’d saved Arthur’s skin, inadvertently or not.

Reassuringly, by the time they reached Rhodes, the only sign of any Raiders was in the damage they’d left behind. Shop windows were smashed, debris cluttered the street, and several bodies were being lifted into a cart by a couple of townsfolk. Mason made a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of it, but he still encouraged his horse towards the saloon. As they got closer Arthur was relieved to see his own mare still tied to a hitching post, tugging at her reins in discomfort but alive – and not stolen – nonetheless.

“I appreciate you stepping in,” he said, dismounting Mason’s horse and moving over to his own. “Not sure what would have happened if I had to keep on running.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Morgan. It was good seeing you again.” Mason was looking south, to the outskirts of town, and Arthur frowned at him as he mounted his horse.

“You ain’t really going after that panther, are you?” He ignored the little jolt of fear at the thought.

Mason looked back to him, laughing slightly. “No, you’ve persuaded me against it. I think I’ll head to the Lannahechee River and capture some landscape shots. You’re more than welcome to come with me, you know.”

Arthur tipped his head. “That’s real kind of you but I ought to be getting away. Got folks waiting for me.”

“Ah. Of course,” Mason said, prompting his horse into a walk. “Well, I shall be in Lemoyne in the upcoming weeks, perhaps I’ll run into you then.”

Arthur smiled, waving him goodbye. “I’ll keep my eye out, Mr. Mason. You take care now.”

“You too, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through now! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated


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